Thirty Days
by go-ahead-and-try
Summary: ericandy's 30 Day OTP Challenge. ClintxNatasha. Rated for language and sexuality. Follows no chronological order time-wise.
1. Holding Hands

They weren't supposed to get nervous. They're trained assassins, for crying out loud! What trained assassins get nervous? SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, apparently. And, in all seriousness, he had a real reason to be nervous. This was his first mission in nine months - the guys liked to tease that he was on maternity leave. His doctor had finally cleared him to work in the field again. But the field would never be the same.

Clint "Hawkeye" Barton was now eighty percent deaf.

He began to fidget, straightening his tie, reassuring himself that his cufflinks were still on, readjusting his bell. The one thing he didn't do was mess around with his hearing aids. Even nine months after the accident, he wasn't used to them, but he knew better than to fiddle around with them. He looked expectantly at the hotel lobby door, waiting for his partner to show up. Arriving together would be too big of a spectacle, too suspicious - at least, according to Fury. Clint disagreed, but certainly knew better than to talk back or argue.

Finally, the lobby doors opened and he just about dropped his jaw to the floor. In waltzed his partner, SHIELD Agent Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff, in a black slinky black evening gown. Her curls were loosely pinned away from her face, exposing cheekbones highlighted by a frosty blush. He watched as she greeted the hostess, both of them kissing the air right next to each other's cheeks. She then stood in front of the host to greet him, and his mouth went dry. As she offered him her hand, which he promptly kissed, her hips popped and one leg slid out to compensate. Literally slid out. Her long leg was now bare, courtesy of the thigh-high slit in her dress. When she came to stand in front of him, he was sure his expression was still frozen in a warped sort of awe-filled lust.

"Watch out, Barton," she playfully smirked. "You might start drooling." That seemed to snap him out of it. He smirked back, then offered his arm to her. She threaded her arm through his, gently resting her hand on his elbow. They were still nearly the same height; she'd opted out of wearing heels. They began to walk out to the dance floor, then Clint realized he wasn't alone. He wasn't the only one nervous. Natasha traced her hand from his elbow down to his hand, squeezing it tightly like she was reassuring herself that he was actually there. He glanced down at their hands, then faced front with a bright smile. He could face anything this mission could possibly present, as long as her hand was tightly wrapped with his.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Warning: language**

There was always that horrifying possibility. That horrible chance that hung heavy in the air, unspoken but universally acknowledged. One of them could not make it back. It itched at the back of their brains during any mission, be it solo, duo, or partial or full team. Any glance could be their last. Any shot could be too close. The next breath was never guaranteed. It was a frightening thought, but it was omnipresent. They could lose one another.

Natasha's heart dropped as the sonic explosion rang in her ear and churned in her stomach. That was one of Clint's arrows. But it was far too close for comfort. "Barton?" she called, concern painting her voice. She waited a moment, but there was no response. She tried again. "Barton?" Still no answer. "Clint!" she cried, using his first name in an effort to rouse a response. Still nothing. She ran to where she last saw him, calling him in any which way she could: Barton, Clint, Hawkeye, bitch, birdbrain, archer, Robin Hood. She even slipped "_ebanatyi pidaraz_" in. When she found him, her breath caught in her throat. He was on his side, his back to her, unresponsive and unmoving.

She knelt down and gently touched his shoulder, her heart pounding painfully. She couldn't have lost him. Not him. Not now. He suddenly spun on her, pushing her onto her back, and then straddled her hips with his bow pressing into her collarbone with enough force to crack it. She caught the bow, but it was still pushing down on her harshly enough to cause her a hiss of slight pain. He immediately withdrew his bow, propping himself up on his hands which he placed on either side of her head. She took that moment to study him. He'd treated her like the enemy, like she'd snuck up on him. She was shouting at the top of her lungs all sorts of things, though. How could he not have heard her? It was then, with a gasp, she noted the amount of blood on his face. She rubbed some of it away, but it was fresh and still flowing. Flowing from his ears.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, tears flying to her eyes. She'd seen this on the battlefield before. One of his eardrums was definitely ruptured, and the other seemed badly town. That's why he acted like he hadn't heard her coming. He hadn't. Her tears began to fall, tracing down her cheekbones until they got lost in her fire red curls. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. His eyes flickered down to watch her lips. He then shook his head as tears filled his eyes. She cradled his head in her hands, then mouthed the words, "I love you." He closed his eyes, tears spilling over. She slowly leaned up and softly kissed him. When she pulled away, he nuzzled her neck. She eased herself back down to the ground, going her best to not dislodge him. They managed to successfully maneuver back to a lying position without separating. To accommodate for the new position, he transitioned his weight to rest on his forearms, which he tucked in to follow the gentle slope of her ribcage. Gentle sobs racked his shoulders, and she was left with nothing more to do than the simplest thing she could. She simply held him close.

**The italicized phrase is Russian. Natasha shouted "fucking motherfucker" in Russian at Clint.**


	3. Watching a Movie

Black was comfortable for Clint and Natasha. They supposed it was because they had to wear it so often, but - no matter the reason - it was comfortable. He was sitting on the back of the couch in a black tank top and black fitted sweatpants. He was absentmindedly playing with her hair as she sat in front of him, leaning against his legs, in a black slouchy sweatshirt and black leggings. They were both freshly showered; they'd decided to pop in a movie to help them unwind from the rough day of training.

She wasn't really watching the movie. It was exactly her type - Woody Allen's _Midnight in Paris _- but she couldn't concentrate. She was like a little kitten, drifting off while Clint ran his fingers through her hair. Her blinks were getting longer and more frequent. She knew she wouldn't last much longer. She nuzzled her head against his knee, alerting him to the fact that she was about to fall asleep. He raked his fingers through her hair one last time before stopping, thinking that's what she wanted. She made a noise of complaint somewhere in her throat. When he didn't start stroking her hair again, she gently bonked his knee with her head.

He smiled as he started running his hands through her hair again. It was soothing not only to her, but also to him. Her breathing became longer and deeper; she had fallen asleep. He kissed the top of her head. This is how he liked to unwind.


	4. On a Date

**Warning: language.**

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a real date. It was the closest they'd gotten in a while, though. It was the two of them, dressed nicely, eating dinner together; the only weapon they had was the small pistol in Natasha's thigh holster. It was easily concealed beneath her flowing silver gown that hugged her bust, cinched at her waist, but then flowed down like trickles of molten silver.

They were observing a suspected hacker. He hadn't successfully gotten past SHIELD security, but his presence had been registered and recorded. The two of them had to make sure he didn't have an informant. That would be bad news. So far, though, the teen had been sitting at a table alone.

"This is nice," Natasha commented, toying with her fork as they waited for their meals to come. She was acutely aware of the communication piece in her ear, the flesh-colored microphone just peeking out. Clint seemed aware of the identical device he wore in his ear, since he simply nodded. Both their eyes flashed up as the waiter placed a glass of champagne in front of either of them before walking away. Natasha bit the inside of her lower lip; she loved a good glass of champagne as much - if not more - than the next girl. No drinks on a mission, though.

"Nat," Clint whispered. She snapped to attention, looking at him, then following his gaze to the suspect. A girl had just sat down across from him, and both had small shy smiles. She was a pretty little thing, smaller than both the agents with legs that seemed to go for miles. She was dressed flirtingly, a blush colored tee tucked into a mid-thigh length black circle skirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, bangs falling to just above her eyebrows. What the most important thing about this girl, though, was that neither Clint nor Natasha recognized her. They both knew every SHIELD agent, and this girl wasn't one.

"Sir," Natasha murmured, fixing her eyes back on Clint. "The stakeout was successful, but offered no further leads. Agent Romanoff signing off." Before Fury or Coulson could object, she pulled the earpiece out of her ear and dropped it into her water glass. She then took her glass of champagne, raised it slightly towards Clint, and downed it. She then signaled to the waiter for another before simply looking at Clint and smiling.

Following her example, Clint whispered, "Agent Barton signing off." He then smirked, unable to help himself, and added "Caw-caw, motherfuckers" before removing his earpiece and dropping it in his water. He sipped at his champagne, continuing to smile at Natasha. "Hey, Nat?" She hummed in response. "Can we make this official?" She looked up at him, eyes smoldering, and smiled. She leaned forward, the small table not proving to be much of an obstacle. Clint met her halfway, and they kissed. They then resumed their seats and smiled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'?"

She laughed. "Yes, Clint. That was a 'yes.'"


End file.
